


For Everything. (X Drake x Hawkins)

by crapitskizaru



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Other, So possible spoilers, the wano arc, we love a good ol' tarot reading from a straw man with creepy tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crapitskizaru/pseuds/crapitskizaru
Summary: Drake cannot bear with the past mistakes catching up to him anymore. He receives a Tarot reading from his one and only friend among the Beast Pirates.
Relationships: Basil Hawkins/X Drake
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	For Everything. (X Drake x Hawkins)

The small room was shrouded in darkness. Only a single source of light remained - the man observed as the trail of smoke curled upwards from the candle.

He was scared. The cold fear crawled underneath his skin and confused his senses. He tried to reach back into his past, to remember what led him to this miserable point. Not many memories were left to conjure up in order to answer the persisting questions.

A quiet voice in his head kept reminding him that the end draws near, that death lurks even in the shadowed corners of his room, waiting to pounce and take his life.

The man didn’t want to die just yet. Not one person would remember him fondly if he did - he needed more time to fix his mistakes. The main issue was, however, that for a single mistake in the past he had to spend years in the present, desperately trying to turn it all around.

His eyes landed on the open journal on his desk. If he died now… There was a chance someone might find his notes and read about the crimes and sins he regretted more than anything in the world. He could try to persuade his own self that he was used, manipulated, forced to kill. But it certainly didn’t persuade his aching heart.

Should he tell _him_? Tell him everything? But what if he turns on him, and Drake will be left with enemies on both sides of the conflict? That would serve no one.

He swiftly got up and started pacing across the room. The most disturbing thought was the one that kept telling him there was no right thing to do. Both the Marines and the forces of the Emperor were committing to the wrong ideas, their hatred for each other only adding fuel to the fire of the looming war.

How could everyone be so short-sighted? Serving vicious men in power with only their own interests in mind. But then again, Drake shouldn’t be the one to judge. Everyone else must have had their reasons to do it, just like he did.

His cover will be blown, sooner or later. And then he will be left on the utter mercy of the Beast Pirates, no longer of any use to the Marines.

Drake closed the journal. He had to tell _him_. There was no other choice. Like an enslaved animal in a cage, no matter which side he turned to, there was always the cold steel of bars in front of him. And so his heart led him to the only path left to take - towards one sole friend; a friend he was going to lose at the end of that same night.

Gripping the journal, he left his room. No explanation or reasoning came to his mind, but he kept going. If he stopped now, he knew he wouldn’t find the strength to try it again - and so, he kept going.

Already, the shadows of the night seeped through the windows of the corridor. The Land of Wano had rarely been at peace, but at that moment it seemed like the whole world was calm, preparing for slumber.

Drake stood before the door, wondering where to start the conversation. Should he confess everything right away? Or paint a whole picture first? He figured that a start with a knock on the door should be the best option.

Before he raised his hand, the door opened.

“How long are you going to stand here for?” Hawkins asked. “I almost started placing bets with myself. So far, it’s been at least five minutes.”

“You’ve seen me in your cards?”

“No. Your shadow was visible from under the door.”

“Oh.”

Drake sent him a quick glance. The flowing hair he never got to touch, the piercing eyes, the regal expression on his face - merely looking at him was becoming painful.

He tightened his grip on the journal. With all the sweat he was producing, it was more than possible that all of the ink will get washed away soon.

“Drake? Can I help you?”

“Hm? Oh right. Yes. Yes, you can. _Please_.”

Hawkins bowed his head. “Very well then. Come in.”

You will hate me before this night ends, Drake thought, entering the cabin.

It was a lot brighter than his own, he had to admit that. At least two dozen candles were lit, placed on every possible surface - the floor, the chest of drawers, the windowsill, and the huge desk in the middle of the room, covered with piles of documents. Drake wondered how it was possible that they still hadn’t caught on fire.

It felt cozy and comfortable, at least in comparison to his own dark, lifeless, austere excuse for a cabin.

“I’m guessing you want to know what the cards say.” Hawkins sat behind the desk and gestured for Drake to take the chair across him. “Took you long enough to finally ask. It’s not like I charge for it, you know that.”

“Actually, I’m here for something else-”

“Sit down.”

Drake sat down. Annoying his friend needlessly before he even starts to confess would only make this harder. With a sigh, Drake slid his journal across the desk, unable to look Hawkins in the eye.

“What’s this?”

“A matter I came to you with. It’s…I figured it’d be easier for me to write it all, rather than say it out loud.”

“First, the cards.”

“But-”

“Draw three. Left hand.”

Drake sighed again and drew three cards from the deck. The very same deck that he’d seen in use so many times - when Hawkins used his power, the cards glowed in creepy blue and usually meant bad news for either the enemy or Hawkins himself. Drake wasn’t very fond of that deck of cards.

“The Hierophant. Reversed. The Hanged Man. And the Knight of Pentacles.”

“You don’t seem happy with that.”

“I’m rarely happy,” Hawkins murmured, frowning. “You carry a lot of guilt and shame. Your actions don’t correspond with your values, which causes you to be at constant war with yourself.”

An awkward silence took over.

“Is that it?” Drake asked after a while.

“No. The Hanged Man means you’re stuck in a situation you desperately want to get out of. Think of it as being locked in a cell. In order to escape this stagnancy, you either have to make a firm decision or try to make peace with yourself. Let the events unfold, and maybe the cell door will open unassisted.”

“So you’re saying… When I’m locked in prison, I should just wait long enough and the lock will unlatch.”

Hawkins sent him a tired stare. “No, that’s not it. I’m saying if you try to calm your inner conflicts or attempt to solve some of them, your path will appear on its own.”

“What if I’m unable to do that?”

“This card right here-,” Hawkins continued without an answer, patting a card with a depiction of a knight on a black horse. “- could mean your difficulty in expressing emotions. One of the reasons for that might be a problematic relationship with your father figure.” A short silence followed that statement. “The card also paints you as a reliable, patient, and loyal man. I don’t know about the _loyal_ part…”

Drake felt the tips of his ears catch on fire - the heatwaves suddenly erupting throughout his whole body made him consider taking off his leather jacket, but he discarded that idea at once.

“…since you’re a former Rear Admiral turned pirate, but I’d say the rest is accurate.” Hawkins looked him in the eye. “You are reliable. You don’t back away when a fight turns out to be inevitable. I know I can count on you.”

It was at that exact moment when Drake started regretting his choice at confessing. How could he admit treason to his one and only friend? Under his heavy stare, Drake felt worse than he had for a long time.

“I think you overestimate me,” he whispered.

“I think you _underestimate_ yourself, Drake. And downgrade your morals.”

Drake shifted uncontrollably in his seat, making it screech. “You don’t know a thing about my morals.”

Hawkins smirked and quickly shuffled the cards. “Draw one. Right hand.”

“Listen, I didn’t come here for a lecture.” Drake stood up with haste, suddenly filled with determination. “I don’t fully… _grasp_ the idea behind those cards, or the power you actually have over them. But I’m almost sure those pieces of paper can’t help me. At this point, I have no idea what _can_. I will be going now. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He reached for the journal, but Hawkins grabbed it first. His red eyes were calm but cold; tiny candle flames reflected in them, giving him an unearthly look.

“You seek help. You came to me, and since cards are my biggest asset, I’m doing my best to guide you. But it won’t bear any results without cooperation from your side.”

Drake’s hands gripped the back of the chair, knuckles turning white from strain. The man locked his eyes on one of the candles until his vision blurred, and the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding released slowly.

“I’m not judging you, Drake. I would be a fool and a hypocrite if I did. We all make terrible mistakes. Let me help you fix yours. Now, in the present,” Hawkins paused. “Draw a card.”

He couldn’t back out now. He couldn’t lie to his friend anymore, not after what he’d just heard. This was the only way. Drake drew a card from the very top of the deck. Immediately after his touch, it started glowing in blue.

Claiming back his previous seat, Drake stared at his colleague, trying to imprint his majestic features in his mind. After all, he wasn’t sure whether he’ll see those flowing hair ever again. Or that tattooed cross on his neck. He had always been fond of it.

The blue glimmer accentuated the sharp lines of his face, now furrowed in silent focus.

“I’ll be honest, you’re starting to freak me out a bit,” Drake said.

“You drew The Lovers. Reversed.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Hawkins lifted his gaze and started absent-mindedly fiddling with one of the flames. His fingers caressed them as if they radiated no heat, and then, with one swift movement, he extinguished the light.

Drake watched a smudge of smoke travel all the way towards the ceiling.

“You need to accept that your present is the result of the choices that you’ve made a long time ago. Embrace your past. Only then you will be able to move forward.” Hawkins paused as if considering whether he should continue or not. “It’s also a rather strong indicator of you harboring feelings for your colleague. What’s most likely to be stopping you from engaging is fear. But don’t worry-”

Drake raised an eyebrow. Who in their right mind wouldn’t worry after all this information?

“- it’s not an unrequited love.”

Silence veiled the room once more, but Drake had no interest in disturbing it. Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure what to say.

Eventually, after most of the flames had died down and the wax stiffened on the candles, he stirred. He almost forgot about the true reason he came there in the first place - it was high time to get it over with.

“You may count on me during our battles, but I know you don’t fully trust me. It could be your cards hinting or solely your intuition…I want you to know you’re right for being wary of me. I came here to confess. And to apologize, if you’ll allow it. Everything is in the journal.”

Hawkins crossed his hands on his chest, leaning back.

“Everything? You wrote down your mistakes, both past _and_ present?”

“Yes. My current…” Drake wavered, then gathered his composure. “- _situation_ as well. It will most likely come to light anyway, but I’d rather confess it myself.”

“Good,” Hawkins replied nonchalantly, lifting up the journal. “I need you to watch closely now.”

So Drake watched. First, the man weighted the notebook in his hand, as if measuring its worth. And then he directed it over one of the flames, causing it to crackle and catch on fire.

“Wait, what are you doing? I want you to read it all. I _need_ you to know.” Drake sat up straight, grasping the edge of the desk. “I can’t lie to you.”

“Then don’t,” Hawkins muttered, fascinated with the bright flame engulfing the papers in his hold. When it almost reached his fingers, he threw it on the desk. “Start again with me.”

The fire slowly turned the white pages dark and withered. As only ashes remained, Drake lifted his gaze.

“The desk could have caught on fire as well, did you take that into consideration?”

“I’m sure you would have come up with something.”

Drake wasn’t sure what to say. A simple ‘thank you’ wouldn’t suffice in this case. So instead, he reached out across the desk and touched Hawkins’ fingers with the tips of his own in silent gratitude. For everything.


End file.
